A Matter of Truth (Fate, #3)

I scratch the back of my neck as he fills the glasses on the table. “Yeah, of course you’re right. It’s just . . .” I hold my empty hands out in front of me; Nell nuzzles me from underneath the table. “I need to be the one to talk to Jonah first. I can’t just show back up in Annar and blindside him again. It’s not fair.”


Karl pushes a half-filled glass toward me. I nearly laugh at the irony, except—right now, right here, I get to choose whether or not it’s half full or half empty. His voice is quiet when he tells me, “For courage.”

My hands shake when I take the glass from him.

“We’ll be there with you, hen,” Cameron murmurs. “You won’t have to do any of this alone.”

“Are you sure about this, you guys? Because—as Will just pointed out, who knows what’s going to happen to me when I go back? As far as I know, they might throw me in jail. Or house arrest. Or, I don’t know—put an ankle monitor on me.”

Karl snorts, like I’m being overly melodramatic.

“If they do,” Cameron says steadily, “then it will happen with you knowing your family has your back and will be there to support you every step of the way.”

Although I think he’d guessed I was close to Cameron and Will, Karl’s eyebrows still lift high into his forehead at the use of family.

And I don’t blame him. What did I do to deserve such love, given so freely? “You guys will have to leave behind Anchorage and everybody in it. Your jobs.”

“There are portals,” Cameron says. “And cars and airplanes, not to mention telephones. Plus, I happen to know lots of places in Annar hire nons. Hen, we already discussed this.”

Even still, nagging, latent fear taunts me that all of this might be too good to be true. Surely somebody like me, after everything I’ve done, doesn’t deserve such generosity and loyalty. “What about the Moose?” I say to Will.

“They will most likely go under without my stellar cooking,” he says with a straight face.

More quietly, “And Becca?”

That strikes a nerve. “What about her?”

I bite my lip, sneaking a glance at Cameron. He looks . . . desolate, like he fears his son will change his mind over this reminder of what once was. “It’s just,” I tell my best friend, “Annar is obviously not . . .” I tap on the table. “Here.”

“Did you fail geography?” He pats my shoulder sympathetically. “Because frankly, I’m concerned. Anchorage is quite a distance from Glasgow, too. Separate continents and all. Maybe you should make us a map so I can—”

I shove his hand off. “Smartass.” And then, more gently, “I just . . . I don’t want you to do something that you’ll regret.”

He laughs bitterly before he sips his wine. “That ship sailed long before you ever entered the picture.” He sets his glass down. “What will it matter if I am in Annar or Alaska? My phone will ring just the same.”

Karl sends me another silent question, but this is not my story to tell. So I say instead, “I can’t ask you to give up everything for me. You two have a rich life here in Anchorage, especially with . . .”—I glance back at Cameron again—“the community here.”

“We are not giving up anything for you,” Cameron says. “This is not only your chance to make amends back in Annar, but mine and Will’s, too.”

Will frowns before finishing the rest of his wine. “In case you aren’t up to speed,” he says to Karl, “my mum was apparently not only an Elf, but a Magical, too.” He stands up and wanders over to the sink with his glass. “Yesterday was a fun day, mate. Found out my best friend is a superhero and that I’m not even human, that I never knew who my mum really was. Good times were had by all.”

Karl clears his throat as he lays his iPad down on the table. “On the car ride over, I was able to access your mother’s file, Will.” He coughs uncomfortably. “I . . . well, I needed to background check you and . . .” Another uncomfortable cough. “The point is, it’s standard procedure. If you want, you’re . . .” I nearly laugh, because Karl looks like he’d rather be anywhere than here at the moment, in the midst of this drama, “free to look at it, if you like.”

Will’s eyes widen before zooming on his father. “Why in the world would my mum have a file?”

Cameron says, voice calm as ever, “Molly was on the Guard like Karl here. I’m assuming she has one due to that. Unless there are files kept on every Magical?”

This makes Karl even uneasier, like he’s revealing state secrets. But he tells Cameron, “Every Magical has a file. Some are more detailed than others, though.”

Will sucks in his bottom lip while he gazes at the iPad. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know he’s pissed at learning this new bit about his mom, not so much that she was a Guard, but because it was something that wasn’t expressed earlier.

I try to fill the void. “What was her craft?”

“She was a Smith,” Cameron says. I envy how he always sounds so steady. So composed. So in control, even though he must be nervous about revealing all his secrets after decades of building and hiding them.